


We're Hunting a What, Sammy?

by WarlockWriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Drunken Confessions, Kinda goes with drunken confessions, Little bit of angst, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 03:42:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19433218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarlockWriter/pseuds/WarlockWriter
Summary: Sam and Dean need to investigate a series of "suicide by train" incidents. Which are being caused by the Pope Lick Monster? WTF?And apparently there's a real FBI agent working the case? How is that possible?





	We're Hunting a What, Sammy?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FalCatrecon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalCatrecon/gifts).



> A birthday fic for [FalCatrecon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalCatrecon/pseuds/FalCatrecon) HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
> 
> Fills the "Praise Kink" and "Drunken Confessions" squares for the Gabriel SPN Bingo
> 
> Thanks to [humancorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/humancorn/pseuds/humancorn) for the beta!

Typical angel dick again, Sam,” Dean said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Trickster that wasn’t a Trickster.” He shook his head. “Yet another archangel. Like we don’t already have enough of those in our life.” He shrugged. “At least we got Cas back.” A pause. “ _They call me Gabriel._ Hubris much?”

Sam nodded absently, lost in thought, barely even noticing when his brother stopped babbling and Zeppelin suddenly filled the Impala. He wasn’t as convinced as his brother that Gabriel was a dick like Zachariah and the rest. No, he hadn’t enjoyed being turned into the Impala—his ass still hurt from Dean closing the trunk—but he’d sensed real loneliness from the archangel. The family story he’d told certainly was a familiar one.

He found himself experiencing an unusual emotion in regard to the Trickster/Archangel: empathy. Which was troubling, considering his attraction to Gabriel. He’d felt it at Crawford Hall three years ago, and he’d fought it after Mystery Spot, but he’d never been able to _quite_ get rid of it. Whiskey-gold eyes haunted far too many dreams. Now to discover he was an angel, not a demi-god, _and_ a younger son with Daddy issues? Yeah, that messed with his mind and emotions.

Truth to be told, he’d been a little envious of his brother and his relationship with Cas. Once or twice he’d dreamed that the hot little Trickster was really an angel. Odd that his unconscious mind had picked up on something that had slid by his conscious mind.

Did Gabriel’s angelness make him more, or less, available? At Crawford Hall, he’d been sure his perception of the janitor’s flirting had been his imagination. However, in the warehouse, he'd not been able to ignore the way Gabriel kept looking at him. For his reaction? Approval? What?

He sighed and shook his head. Yeah, right. Him and an archangel? Who was he fooling? Like that could ever happen.

“What’s up, Sammy?” Dean asked. “We’ll figure out something. You know we will. No angel’s going to ride our ass.”

Sam managed to suppress another sigh. Because he was pretty sure he wanted a certain angel to do just that. Ride his ass.

***

Several days passed uneventfully. Well, uneventfully for Winchesters. They salted and burned a run of the mill ghost. Dean found a local diner that had amazing pie. Cas stopped by twice to report “no progress” on the search for God.

Sam was sitting at the latest no-tell motel, ignoring how much he missed the cheerful flower pattern from the motel in Wellington, Ohio. He was idly browsing news sites, looking for a case, wishing there were some way to automate the process. Maybe a bot? Right. Like he knew how to program those.

Then he found something that made him sit up and start to take notes.

Dean came in a few minutes later, the aroma of burgers and fries drifting from the two greasy bags he clutched in one hand.

“Dean,” Sam said. “I think I’ve found a case.”

Dean dropped the bags on the rickety table, catching one corner just before the leg collapsed. Sam idly put out a foot to help stabilize it. “What you got?”

Sam turned the laptop so Dean could read it. His brother took out a burger and started to unwrap it.

“Hey!” Sam protested. “Don’t get your greasy fingers all over my computer!”

Dean flipped him off with one hand while he held his sandwich with the other and took a huge bite, catching a squirt of ketchup with his tongue at the last moment. 

Sam shook his head and opened his own bag. Well, at least Dean had gotten him a grilled chicken sandwich instead of a burger.

“Suicide by train?” Dean asked after reading for a minute. His burger was half gone.

“Yeah, and none of them seemed to have suicide potential. I mean look at the second guy. He was about to get married, and, by all accounts, was as happy about it as he could be.”

Dean finished his burger and started on his fries. “Sounds like our kind of thing. It’s only a couple of hours away.” The ghost case hadn’t even taken them out of Ohio, and Louisville, Kentucky was no more than three hours away, probably even less the way Dean drove.

“All right. Early start in the morning?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dean finished his fries. “Gonna go hustle some pool. We’re getting low on funds. Want to come along?”

Sam shook his head. He wasn’t in the mood to con people out of their money this evening. “Nah. Go ahead. I think I’ll just stay here and watch some TV.”

Dean punched him in the shoulder. “If you want to watch porn, just say so, Sammy. No need to be coy.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Gross, man!”

“Ah, it’s always the quiet ones.” Dean was laughing on his way out of the door, and Sam couldn’t help a smile. Some things stayed consistent in their crazy life.

As soon as he heard the departing rumble of the Impala, Sam settled on his bed to try to find something on TV. He finally found a B horror flick about some FBI agent investigating—were those demons?—in a mental institute. The main character reminded him of Gabriel. Watching it was probably a terrible idea, but he found it oddly comforting.

***

They pulled into Louisville a little before lunch the next day, and Dean talked Sam into grabbing some food before suiting up to go talk to the police.

Finally, after cleaning up Dean who managed to spill mayonnaise on his shirt, they walked into the police department and started their usual “We’re the FBI” routine. But before they’d gotten much farther than showing their badges, the clerk frowned at them. “Two _more_ agents?”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows at the woman. “What do you mean two more?”

“Well, there was already one agent here this morning looking into the suicides. We told him there was no way it was something the FBI would be interested in, but he didn’t listen.” She shrugged, her long braids waving gently over her chest. “Guessing you two won’t listen either. I mean, we know what killed them.”

Both Sam and Dean straightened. “You do?”

“Course we do. It was the Pope Lick Monster.”

Dean and Sam exchanged looks. Finally, Dean said, “The what?”

She shook her head in obvious impatience at their ignorance. “The Pope Lick Monster. It uses hypnosis to make people walk out on the train trestle and get killed. Or crash their cars under the trestle.”

Sam blinked. “You mean you a) know what the monster is and b) believe in it?” That was a first. Assuming they were understanding her correctly.

She gave them something very close to a Sam Winchester bitchface. “We’re not hicks, you know!”

“I know that, ma’am,” Sam said, trying to figure a way out of the awkward position they’d found themselves in.

“We know the monster doesn’t exist, of course. There’s no such thing as a human/goat/sheep hybrid. But the tourists and the idiots don’t know that! So, they come and try to get it on camera or some other idiocy. They think the tracks are old and not in use. But the trains come regular. And then they get themselves killed.”

“Human/goat/sheep?” Dean mouthed at Sam. “Redundant much?”

Sam stifled a laugh at his brother’s remark. “Well, that makes sense, ma’am. We won’t take up any more of your time.” He didn’t like the way her dark eyes were flashing at them. Plus, because she wasn’t much over five feet, he didn’t like to admit that she was just the _tiniest_ bit intimidating.

She nodded and started to go back to her paperwork. Which of course was when Dean had to ask, “Excuse me, ma’am? One more question?”

She glanced up from her paperwork, flashing him an annoyed glare from under her eyebrows, but after a second, she nodded.

“Do you happen to know if the other agent is still in town?”

She waved in the general direction of the downtown. “Told him the better hotels were that a way.”

“Right. Thank you,” Dean said before they both beat a hasty retreat.

As soon as they were back in the car, Dean asked, “Real agent? Seem likely to you?”

“Not at all,” Sam said, pulling out his phone. “I’m betting he’s a hunter.”

“Betting you’re right. You calling Bobby?”

Sam nodded and motioned to Dean for silence. “Hey, Bobby. We’re on a hunt in Louisville. Know a hunter working this area?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Bobby said.

“No?” Sam asked. “Okay. No, we’re asking because there’s supposedly a ‘real’ FBI agent working this case. And it’s definitely not an FBI kind of case, so we figured it was another hunter.”

“What’s the case?” Bobby asked, his gruffness morphing into interest.

“Uh, something called a Pope Lick Monster?”

“What? Boy, you heard that wrong!”

Dean was grinning at him. Sam grinned back.

“Nope. That’s what she said. Apparently, it’s a human/sheep/hybrid.”

“That’s redundant!”

“That’s what Dean said. We’re going to check it out and see what it really is.”

“Keep me posted, and if I hear about a hunter working the area, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, Bobby.” Sam disconnected.

“So that’s a no on another hunter?” Dean asked.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Want to get a motel room, do some research on this weird ass monster and then check out the bridge?” Dean was rolling his eyes as he spoke.

“Sure. Maybe this other ‘agent’ will be there, and we can find out who he really is.”

Dean drove them to the edge of town where there were motels in their price range. As soon as they checked in, they both sat down and started looking.

“Seriously, man,” Sam said after a bit of searching. “It’s like someone took the Billy Goats Gruff story and elaborated on it.”

Dean was nodding. “Yeah. And I think the news reports you found were written by idiots. Some of these don’t sound like suicides. Actually, most of them don’t.”

“What are you reading from?”

“Local paper. So, this dude, Bill Dickson. He was an out of towner who heard about the legend and came out to film a documentary about it. When the locals told him to be careful and that the track was still in use, he laughed and went anyway. Bam! Jam on the tracks.”

Sam couldn’t help a little shudder at that. It was a particularly messy way to go.

“And this one. Meagan Robinson. She and her boyfriend were also trying to find the thing. By the way, it’s named because the trestle goes over the Pope Lick Creek, which is an awful name.”

“Okay, yeah, that is awful. But Meagan Robinson?” His brother could get so easily distracted sometimes.

“Right. Meagan and her boyfriend, a Pete “Cod” Stone. Seriously, what kind of nickname is Cod?”

“Dean! Enough editorializing. What happened to them?”

“Huh?” Dean looked confused for a moment. “Oh, right. Pretty boring, actually. Meagan and Pete were looking for the monster. Meagan got hit by the train. Pete survived by hanging off the trestle until the train went by.”

“Oh.” Sam thought for a minute, idly moving his mouse around the scarred motel table. “So, is this our kind of case, or not, do you think?”

Dean made a _maybe yes, maybe no_ gesture with his left hand while he scrolled with the other.

“What’s that mean?”

“It means there’s this one that doesn’t sit right with me. Olivia Berwind. She’s been reported as a suicide, according to the paper. Want to check the morgue records?”

Sam was already typing as Dean spoke.

“So, she’s a local. Apparently happy. Recently married to a local boy named Jed. She drove by the creek each day on her way home from work. One day she didn’t come home. Jed called the authorities, and they finally found her body near the tracks. Jed assured everyone that she knew about the legend and, like all the locals, was disgusted by the thrill-seeking tourists. He insisted she’d never have any reason to go up on the trestle. They did an autopsy to rule out foul play and finally ruled it a suicide.” 

Sam had just hacked his way into the morgue and was pulling up her autopsy report. Scanning quickly, he confirmed what Dean had just said. “Yep. That’s what it says here. No drugs beyond a bit of marijuana. Looks like she fell to her death instead of being run over.”

Dean was nodding. “Seem suspicious enough to justify checking out the bridge?”

“I think so. But let’s see if we can find out anything about this monster. Surely there’s some lore on a hybrid that weird.” He pulled up his usual search engine and started hunting. After a few minutes, he said, “Well, there’s the obvious satyr, of course.” He scrolled through a few more links. “But I’m not seeing a sheep hybrid.”

Dean made a “humph” sound. “Wasn’t the satyr also the god Pan?”

“Yes.”

“And wasn’t Pan a trickster god?”

Sam thought for a moment. “Yeah, he was.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother. “So, we leave a former Trickster behind and then show up where there’s a monster that looks an awful lot like another Trickster god. Coincidence?”

Sam shook his head. “Kind of doubting it.”

“Still not sure where they got the sheep part of the hybrid, though.”

Shrugging and starting to pack up his laptop, Sam said. “I’m not sure either, but urban legends often go in weird directions.”

“True.” Dean stood up and stretched. “Shall we go do this thing?”

Sam motioned his brother to the door, “After you.”

Dean gave him a grin and headed for the door, pulling his keys out of his pocket as he walked.

***

They arrived at the trestle bridge, and Dean bumped his way carefully along a small access road. “I think that’s as close as I can get, Sammy.”

Sam was already climbing out of the car and walking to the trunk. “It’s fine. We’ve walked farther on a hunt before.”

Fortunately, they still had several wooden stakes ready, and Sam grabbed one. He already had his pistol and Ruby’s knife. Even if they weren’t facing a demon, he liked to keep that knife with him. He rounded it out with a shotgun. Because shotguns were useful so often.

Dean armed himself similarly, and they started for the bridge. They had just clambered up the embankment when they heard a voice calling from several yards away.

“FBI! Freeze.”

Sam rolled to the left, bringing up his shotgun, trusting his brother to go the other way and cover him. There was no way that was a real agent.

From a crouch, he got a good look at the man, focusing first on the pistol, which did look FBI regulation. Whoever he was, he’d done his homework. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean covering him with his shotgun.

The man was of average height, which meant he looked tiny to Sam, who was used to his brother and Cas. He was wearing a nondescript suit, which looked exactly like what an agent would wear. His balding dark hair was neatly styled. He held his pistol as if he knew _exactly_ how to use it and wouldn’t hesitate.

Sam decided someone needed to walk this situation back. He leaned over, carefully placing his shotgun on the ground. “Sir. We’re no threat to you. But nor do you have any reason to arrest us.” Well, other than the about a million warrants out for their arrest. But since he didn’t believe this guy was a real agent, he wasn’t worried about that. Too much.

The man’s eyes cut over to Dean, who shook his head. “I know you’re phonier than a three-dollar bill, dude. So put that gun down, and we can compare notes. You’re a hunter, just like us.”

The man gave them a puzzled look. “Hunter? You’re out here hunting something?” He peered closely at Sam. “With a wooden stake under your jacket. You hunting vampires? Because you know those don’t exist, right?”

Sam straightened, slowly, because the guy hadn’t moved his gun an inch as he spoke, and the barrel was pointed right at Sam’s center mass. “Can we talk about this without guns? Maybe we can help each other?”

The man him looked Sam up and down then did the same to Dean. Finally, he shrugged, flipped the safety on his pistol and slid it into an under-the-shoulder holster. “All right.” He looked pointedly at Dean. “Your turn.”

Dean lowered his shotgun.

“You have a name?” Sam asked. “We’re Sam and Dean.”

“Special Agent James Ellis,” he replied.

“All right, Agent Ellis,” Sam said. “What brings you out here at night?”

“Could be asking you the same thing.” Obviously, Ellis wasn’t going to give them anything without them offering something first.

“All right. We’re looking into the deaths. Some of them are pretty obviously tourists being stupid, but others might not be.”

“Like Ms. Berwind.”

“Exactly.”

“What do you know about that one?” Ellis asked.

Dean stepped to his left, standing beside his brother. “Not much. Apparently was determined to be a suicide, but a lot doesn’t add up.”

“Huh,” Ellis said, noncommittally. “Who do you work for? You’re not local police.”

This is where things would get awkward, Sam knew from long experience. “Uh, Agent Ellis…” He still didn’t believe the man was an agent, but he didn’t have any proof of that either, so he went with it. “This may sound crazy, but we think Ms. Berwind might actually have been killed by a monster.”

Ellis raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I look like Agent Mulder, and I definitely do not have a pretty partner named Scully.”

Sam shrugged. “Like I said. It does sound crazy, but it’s what we’re investigating. We don’t work for anyone. We pretty much work for ourselves.”

Ellis looked as if he was going to argue the point more, but just then a low, ululating howl echoed in the night. The sound was an odd mix of a wolf’s howl mixed with a goat’s bleating. Sam wasn’t sure any throat could produce anything quite like it, but obviously _something_ could.

Sam stooped, grabbed his gun and whirled to face where the sound had come from. Dean’s shotgun was already up. Ellis glanced between them. “You think that’s the Pope Lick Monster?” His tone was frankly disbelieving.

Sam motioned the agent to move behind him. “Sir, you can believe it or not, but this is what we do. If you’d be so kind as to get behind me.”

“Why?”

“So you’re not the next victim,” Dean snapped.

Ellis gave an exaggerated, long suffering sigh and moved behind Sam.

The howl sounded again. Closer this time.

“About five hundred yards that way?” Dean asked, motioning with his elbow off to Sam’s left, just past the trestle bridge.

“Yeah.”

“Head that way, and I’ll circle around. See if we can pincher it?”

Sam considered but couldn’t think of a better idea. He shook his head. For some reason it was getting hard to think. “Yeah, we’ll do that.”

“You okay, Sammy?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He turned to Ellis. “Agent Ellis. You stay here. No matter what you see or hear, just stay here.”

As the howl echoed through the woods, definitely closer now, Ellis started to look nervous. “Yeah. I’ll do that.”

Sam started moving, and Dean jogged quietly in the direction they’d agreed on. Sam shook his head again, his thoughts moving slowly. Damn it! He needed to be alert or he’d be no use to his brother.

Stepping carefully to avoid twigs or leaves, he walked toward the trestle bridge. A chill wind blew up from the gorge, bringing with it the odor of damp, mold and something foul and almost animalistic. He was sure that last was his imagination, though.

The howl sounded again, close enough that Sam squinted through the darkness, certain he could see it if he only could focus his eyes. Why couldn’t he focus his eyes?

He took another step, and his foot came down on…nothing. Only the reflexes he had honed over decades of hunting allowed him to pull back before he tumbled down the gorge.

Sam took several steps back, breath coming in harsh pants. That had been too close.

Branches rustled. Twigs crackled. A foul scent filled the air around him. _Something_ stepped out of the woods by the bridge. Sam had never seen anything quite like it. It was roughly man-shaped but tall enough to make Sam feel small. Ram horns sprouted from its otherwise human-shaped head. It had a bare torso covered with coarse hair that looked almost like fur. Its torso melded into the hind legs of a goat, complete with cloven hooves.

Sam knew he should move, raise his weapon, something, but he was frozen in place. As if from a distance, he heard Dean yell, “SAM!” but he couldn’t make himself react. He took a step forward. Then another. A part of him knew he was walking closer to the drop off, but he couldn’t stop. Or make himself care. He was going to die here, and he was utterly indifferent to his fate.

Just before he walked to his death, he saw a figure, moving fast, charge the monster, hitting it with a shoulder, low in its chest, sending it flying.

Suddenly Sam could think. He stopped moving, just inches from the edge of the gorge. Once again, he shook his head to clear it, but this time it worked, and he could think again.

Who had attacked the monster? Sam squinted into the darkness. Was that Agent Ellis facing off against it? What? How?

The agent and the monster were staring at each other in one of the weirdest face-offs Sam had ever seen. Ellis looked tiny in comparison to the monster, but he was standing his ground, body language undeterred by being towered over. Sam saw Dean slipping quietly through the woods behind him and raised his pistol. The range was long, and he wasn’t certain he could make the shot, but he’d try to save his brother.

Ellis raised a hand, and Dean froze in place. Shit! Ellis wasn’t a hunter! He was something else!

Sam started running, his long legs eating up the distance that separated him from his brother. It took him just seconds to get close enough to hear Ellis yelling at the monster.

“How many times have I told you to leave off, Pan? Go back to your home country and leave this place alone!”

Sam couldn’t understand the monster’s reply. Its voice was rough and was more a goat’s bleat than anything human.

Ellis obviously understood Pan because he shot back, “Those were _not_ the terms of our agreement, and I’m not revising it because you’re in a mood today. It’s not my fault Artemis is in a mood!”

Who was this guy?

Pan roared and swiped at Ellis with something that was more hoof than hand. Ellis went flying, sliding to a stop just at the edge of the gorge.

Sam ran faster, drawing the sharpened stake from under his coat. Pan was striding toward Ellis, who was just getting to his feet. Sam bellowed a challenge, and Pan turned to face him, just in time for Sam to get in under his guard, thrusting the stake as hard as he could, hoping he’d hit the monster’s heart.

Pan got a look of amazement on his face that would have been comical under different circumstances. He pawed for a moment at the stake sticking out of his chest. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell to the ground.

Sam stepped back to avoid being hit and leaned over, hands on his knees, panting and trying to get his breath back.

Ellis walked up to him. “Sam! What did you think you were doing? That thing could have eaten you for a snack. It already damn near had you. If I hadn’t been here, you’d have been down in the gorge, a nice tenderized morsel for that thing.” He waved in the direction of Pan, who had gone still.

Sam stood back up to his full height. “Who or what are you?” He glanced over his shoulder to see Dean still frozen in place. “And can you please release my brother?”

Ellis waved a hand in Dean’s direction. Dean shook his head before scowling and starting to stalk in their direction.

“Thank you for that,” Sam said. “Now. What are you?”

Ellis sighed before his outline blurred.

Sam blinked. “Gabriel?”

Standing in front of him was the familiar form of the once Trickster, now archangel. Oddly, he was still wearing the suit instead of the more casual outfit they’d last seen him in.

“One and the same. But you’re still an idiot for tangling with him.” His tone and expression were pissed. However, oddly, there was also a hint of protective possessiveness in both.

Sam shrugged. “Maybe. But I _did_ kill it.”

“After I softened it up for you.”

Sam barked out a laugh. “Is that like someone ‘loosening it for you’ when you ask them to open a jar that was stuck?”

Gabriel broke into a surprisingly genuine smile. “Exactly, Sammy.”

Sam shook his head. “No. Only Dean gets to call me that.”

He almost _heard_ his brother’s smirk as he joined them.

“Hey, Dean-o. Long time no see. Sorry about freezing you, but, hey, you know how it is.”

“Not really,” Dean said with a snarl.

Sam rolled his eyes. The conversation with Gabriel had been going fairly well. Trust his brother to mess that up. “Thanks for your help, Gabriel. But why were you here in the first place?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Was nice catching up and all. But. Places to go. People to see. Later, gater.” He snapped his fingers and was gone.

“Huh,” Dean said. “That was odd.”

Sam had to agree with him. Gabriel had clearly been hanging around for some reason. And he didn’t want to talk about it? That couldn’t be good.

“Well, monster’s dead,” his brother continued. “Guess there isn’t any reason to keep hanging around this place.”

“Guess not,” Sam said. But it had been nice to see Gabriel again. Which was all kinds of wrong, but there it was.

***

They drove to the next town over and checked into yet another cheap ass motel. Sam ached to just _stop._ To have someplace to call their own. But that wasn’t the Winchester way. Never to have a place to call home.

Dean went out to drink and/or hustle more pool. They hadn’t seen Cas in several days, and Sam knew that always put his brother in a bad mood. Why couldn’t Dean just get his head out of his ass and _say_ something? But that wasn’t the Winchester way either. Feel things but never actually _talk_ about them.

Sam sighed, and knowing it was a bad idea but doing it anyway, walked half a block to a liquor store Dean had pointed out on their way in. He walked in, bought something cheap and went back to the motel room, where he poured himself a glass of whatever it was in one of the cheap plastic glasses from the bathroom. He drank that one, poured another and just kept on, losing track after five.

He’d hoped the booze would stop his brain from working, but it did the opposite. He couldn’t stop seeing Gabriel in the suit. The archangel wore even a cheap suit very well. His brain flashed him images of using the tie to pull Gabriel to him, pressing them closer until their lips were so close they couldn’t do anything but kiss. What would an angel taste like? Chocolate and honey? Rainwater and newly turned earth?

Damn. He had it bad, didn’t he? He was so lonely. He loved his brother, but it wasn’t the same at all. Dean had Cas, even if he refused to admit it or do anything about it. Sam had no one. And he wanted someone. But not just anyone. The more time had passed since Mystery Spot, the more he thought he wanted Gabriel. Never mind that he’d killed Dean thousands of times. There was just something about him. And then to find that he was really an archangel.

What was wrong with him that all he wanted were the monsters?

“I’m hardly a monster, Sam.”

Sam jumped and reached for his gun. Even drunk he could react faster than most people. However, when he turned, it was just Gabriel.

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” the angel said. Sam noted he was back to the green jacket and jeans he’d been wearing in TV Land. He pulled up the other chair, turned it around like Dean would have, and sat. “I wanted to talk to you without Dean being here.” He sniffed the air. “Of course, given a choice, I also would have preferred you to be sober.”

Sam put down his gun on the table, still within easy reach, even though he knew it couldn’t hurt Gabriel.

“Sorry.”

Gabriel gave him a sad smile. “Why? You know you take too much on yourself, right?”

Sam gave a snort and swallowed the tiny bit left in his glass. “Yeah. Release Lucifer. Fuck a demon. Fall in love, however briefly, with a werewolf. I’m the epitome of good choices.”

He poured himself another glass, and, before he could stop his mouth, “Fall in love with an archangel.”

Fuck. Had he really said that?

He tried to come up with something to say that made that sound less bad, but his brain was moving too slowly.

Gabriel’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward over the chair back. “You mean that? Or is it just a drunken confession?”

What Sam _should_ have said was “Just the latter.” What he actually said was “Can’t it be both?”

Shit! He needed to sober up fast.

Gabriel chuckled. “Well, I suppose it could be, yes.” His amber eyes moved up and down Sam, who wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Finally, the angel reached out and touched Sam’s forehead, moving too fast for the hunter to stop it or dodge. Suddenly, his thoughts were clear. If anything, he felt even more mortified than he had when he’d been drunk.

“Okay. Now that you’re sober, anything change?”

Sam desperately wanted to lie but wasn’t lying how he’d gotten himself into so many of the situations he now hated himself for? So, he said, “No. I still feel the same way. Have for a while now.” There. He’d said it while sober. Now Gabriel could fly away, and Sam could go back to getting himself drunk again. Although he’d need to go buy another bottle.

“Huh.”

Sam had had enough of Gabriel’s shit. “Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gabriel didn’t answer the question but asked one of his own. “Want to know why I was hanging around this town?”

Sam hadn’t expected that. “Sure? I guess.”

“Way to sound like you mean it, Sammich.”

Sam thought about giving him a bitchface at the nickname but then realized he actually sort of liked that one. So, he just turned the plastic glass in his hand.

Gabriel gave him a smile that was little more than a quirk of his lips and said, “You’ll put up with that one. Good to know.”

Sam gave him a little _get on with it_ wave.

“All right. You know I like you, Sam. Right?”

Sam had no idea where this was going. “I guess?”

Gabriel gave an elaborate eye roll. “I mean I _like_ like you, Sam.” 

“What? Are we in high school?” But Sam said it with a smile.

“Would you like to be?” Gabriel asked with an elaborate eye waggle. “I could make that happen.” He lifted his hand and started a snap.

A laugh burst out of Sam, and he reached out to grab Gabriel’s hand. It was warm and crackled with energy. Huh. That didn’t happen when he touched Castiel.

“Archangel, remember?” Gabriel’s expression was serious, although his eyes twinkled.

“Are you reading my mind? Can you do that?” Sam didn’t like that idea.

Gabriel shook his head and lifted Sam’s hand to his mouth. The angel’s breath was warm on his palm. “No. But I can read human expressions. Yours especially.”

Sam wanted to feel those lips on his hand, but no, dammit. This was dangerous. He wasn’t going to ask for that. Instead, he asked, “Why mine especially?”

Gabriel’s lips ghosted over his palm. “Sam. I’ve been watching you since you were born. Remember how I said we always knew it would be you? Well, I was curious. I had to see what you were like. If you were going to be half of the big throw down, I wanted to know. Who were you? Beyond your role. Who were you as a person?”

Sam jerked back his hand. Even in his anger, he missed Gabriel’s touch immediately. “What? You watched Azazel drip demon blood in my mouth? And did nothing?”

His anger faded somewhat at the look in Gabriel’s eyes. The archangel suddenly looked old and tired. “I’m sorry, Sam. I would have if I could have. But I couldn’t. Even I couldn’t go against Dad. Not then.”

“And now?”

An elaborate shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m here, aren’t I? It’s a start?”

Of all people, Sam knew how difficult it was to go against his father. And he found, as much as he wanted to stay angry, that he couldn’t. He wanted someone to make him feel warm inside. He wanted to be wanted.

Gabriel reached out a hand. Sam hesitated but finally placed his hand in Gabriel’s.

“You want this, Sam?”

“I do. What about you?”

Instead of answering, Gabriel placed a gentle kiss in the middle of Sam’s palm. He shivered. It felt good. He felt wanted.

Without letting go of his hand, Gabriel stood up and walked around the table. He pulled Sam to his feet. The man started to take a step toward the bed, but the angel stopped him with a hand to his chest. Sam could feel the strength in Gabriel’s compact form. He shivered again. He’d always been the stronger one in a relationship. But this small vessel held so much coiled power.

Gabriel smiled, bent down, put his arms around Sam’s thighs and effortlessly lifted him off the ground. It should have been awkward. Sam should have been top heavy in his arms, but he felt as stable as if he were standing on solid ground.

Gabriel carried him to the bed and lay him down gently, settling beside him. “I’ve watched you, Sam. I’ve seen you having sex.”

That should have been awkward, but, staring into Gabriel’s whiskey gold eyes, it wasn’t.

“You’re rough. Don’t get me wrong. I like it rough, but I want to show you what it’s like to be taken apart, slowly, one piece at a time. You’ve made women scream your name. I want you to whisper mine as you come. Can you do that for me, Sam?”

Sam couldn’t speak. All he could do was nod, unable to tear his gaze away.

Gabriel smiled. “All right then. I’ll show what you can have with me.”

He leaned down and kissed Sam. For a moment, he just let it happen. Chocolate and whiskey. He’d been half right. Then he kissed back, opening his mouth and letting Gabriel in. The angel’s tongue entered him and made a slow circuit, finding all the spots that made him tremble. Gabriel moved slowly, taking his time. It was good, but Sam started to get impatient. He put his arms around Gabriel’s neck and tried to pull him closer and deepen the kiss.

Gabriel stopped. “No, Sam. No one has ever taken care of you before. So, I’m going to. Relax. Let me do this in my own time.”

“But Dean could come back anytime.”

Gabriel snapped his fingers. “There. Dean will be occupied for as long as it takes.”

“What did you do?” Sam started to get up, worried about his brother.

Gabriel stopped him with a gentle hand and ran the other through Sam’s hair, which soothed his anger. He tried to fight against it, but he couldn’t. It felt too good to be touched softly. Even lovingly. “Not to worry, Sammich. I made sure a lovely lady crossed his path. She’s clean, nice and has an apartment near the pool hall. Just what your brother needs.” A wry grin. “Well, what he really needs is my baby bro, but until he gets his head out of his ass, this will do.”

Sam found himself grinning back. Gabriel wasn’t wrong.

“Now, where were we?” He gave a small push to Sam’s chest. “Lie down, big boy. Let me undress you.”

Sam squirmed a bit at that. He was used to just shucking clothes and getting on with it. But he had to admit the idea did sound nice.

He lay back, and Gabriel moved to straddle his hips. “Let’s start with all these layers. I swear, you Winchesters and your plaid. Slowly, he unbuttoned the top layer. He grazed his fingers along Sam’s chest. “Close your eyes. Just feel.”

“But I want to look at you,” was not what he’d expected to say, but once he said it, he realized it was true.

“All right then. But I want you to feel, not think. Can you do that for me?”

Sam nodded.

“Very good.”

Those simple words of praise touched something deep within Sam and fed a need he hadn’t realized he had.

Gabriel smiled at him. “You like that, do you. You like being praised?”

“I didn’t know it, but…”

Gabriel unbuttoned the next layer. “So beautiful laid out on the bed. I have been thinking about this for a very long time, Sam.”

He couldn’t help himself. Sam closed his eyes and gave himself up to Gabriel.

As each layer came off, Gabriel’s slow litany continued. _So good. So brave. Look at those arms. Is that what you’ve been hiding from me, Sam?_ Fingers slow-danced across his chest, tweaking first one than the other nipple. A soft caress of his cheek. _I love a bit of scruff on you, Sam. But I also want to shave you slowly, revealing smooth skin just a bit at a time._

Sam wanted that too.

As Gabriel removed the final layer, he leaned down to kiss Sam again. This time he didn’t try to deepen it. He let Gabriel take his time. This was still strange to him, but time seemed to slow to honey smoothness, and he let it all happen to him. He’d been fighting for so long. He deserved some time to just relax, didn’t he?

“Absolutely, Sam. You relax, and I’ll take good care of you.”

Sam tried not to think. He did. But it was so difficult. He needed to think. To plan. To be the one who was anticipating what would happen next.

“Roll over for me, Sam,” Gabriel whispered in his ear. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

Sam wanted to ask why, but he found himself rolling over instead. He moved his hand to the button of his jeans. He wasn’t really hard yet, but he still thought it was time for them to come off.

Gabriel stopped his hand. “Not yet, Sam. You’re still thinking. I know you’re trying to be good and not think, but you’ve been doing it for so long you don’t know how to stop and just feel.”

Sam knew Gabriel was right. A small whisper of shame passed through him, and he shivered with it.

Gabriel’s hands were on him immediately, stroking down his back. “No, Sam. You’re doing so well. I’m not blaming you. You can’t help it. So, I’m going to help you stop.” Strong fingers moved over his shoulders, finding each and every knot. Most of them Sam didn’t even know were there. “So good, Sam. You’re strong and beautiful, and I’m going to make this so good for you. But let’s get you out of your head first. Focus on my fingers, Sam. Can you do that for me?”

He found it difficult to speak. Gabriel’s fingers dug into the muscles between his shoulder blades, and he couldn’t stop a quiet moan.

“That’s good, Sam. Feels good, doesn’t it? Can you keep your focus on my fingers?”

“Yes,” Sam breathed into the pillow Gabriel had placed under his head.

“Good. You’re doing so well. Keep your focus on my fingers.”

Gabriel’s voice was like warm ocean water lapping gently at him. A shiver of arousal passed through him, but it was still distant. He knew it could be very good, and he was willing to wait.

He wasn’t sure how long Gabriel massaged his shoulders and his back, but when fingers stopped moving on him, he whimpered a bit. And then felt stupid about it.

“No, Sam. No. You’re doing well. You’re so relaxed. I’m going to turn you over now. Is that okay?”

The shame left him as quickly as it had come. Yes, Gabriel would take care of him. He nodded his assent, and warm hands turned him over and slowly, gently removed his jeans, socks and underwear.

Sam was naked on the bed, eyes closed, still relaxed, feeling a bit like he was floating.

“Very good.” Hands moved over his chest, roaming lower to caress his legs. “I knew you were keeping something good in those jeans. I’ve wondered what it would be like to touch you.” Fingers grazed over his cock, which stirred at the attention. “Oh, that’s very nice. I can think of lots of things we could do with that, but for now, how about…”

Hot wetness engulfed him, and Sam jumped at the sensation. Then he relaxed back on the bed and let Gabriel do what he wished. The archangel was as good at giving head as he was at kissing. His tongue swirled around the head and licked at the slit. Sam couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. It felt so damn good. He couldn’t remember anything being that good.

Sam wasn’t sure how Gabriel did it, but the angel managed to take practically all of him in his mouth. And was he really swallowing around the head of his cock? Sam had thought that only happened in bad erotica.

Gabriel pulled off with a wet “pop.” “I was in pornos, Sam,” he said, humor in his tone.

He opened his eyes, annoyed. “You said you couldn’t read my mind! Not a chance you got _that_ from my expression.”

“I may have lied just a little bit,” Gabriel said. “But I can only do it now because you’re calm and thinking so slowly. Usually, I can only get hints and only if I concentrate.”

Sam wasn’t certain he liked that, but he doubted he was going to be like this around Gabriel for long. And he was enjoying the attention from someone who knew what he wanted before he wanted.

“Exactly, Sam. Which is why I know you want me to keep doing this.” He leaned over and went back down on him.

Waves of sensation were washing over him, and he sank deeper into the bed. His limbs felt pleasantly heavy. He wanted to move or grip the bedsheets or something. But he couldn’t make himself move.

Gabriel pulled off again. “You’re doing well, Sam. You’re feeling, not thinking. That’s good.”

Another shiver passed through him at the praise. He didn’t want this to stop.

“Oh, we’re not done yet, Sam. Bend your legs up for me, please.”

Sam did so immediately, not certain what Gabriel was going to do but certain it would be good.

Something gently entered him, and Sam let out a tiny gasp.

“I’ve got you, Sam.” A hand stroked his side soothingly. “Just need to get you all loose and relaxed for me.”

Sam wasn’t certain what he thought of the intrusion. He knew the theory of what Gabriel was doing, but he’d never had it done. The finger went a little deeper and caressed… Oh. That was nice. That was very nice. Sam sank deeper into the bed and let Gabriel do what he wanted. Thoughts moved so slowly through his mind that he was able to ignore them.

“So good, Sam. So relaxed.”

He was vaguely aware that he was hard, and he felt a drip of pre-come on his stomach. It felt good, but he was also distanced from it. Not in a bad way. Just letting it happen rather than trying to make anything happen.

He lost track of time while Gabriel slowly and lovingly opened him up.

Finally, Gabriel pulled his fingers back, and Sam whimpered a bit at the loss. “It’s fine, Sam. You’re ready now.”

Sam was glad. He was enjoying letting things happen, but his body was starting to let him know that coming sometime this week would be nice.

Just a moment later he felt something cool and wet at his entrance. Knowing what it must be, he wavered between anticipation and apprehension. A warm hand smoothed over his brow. “It’s fine, Sam. You’re going to be fine. I’m taking care of you. I’m going to make it so good for you.”

Sam believed him and settled back on the bed, giving himself totally up to Gabriel. A thought flickered across his mind. This was an archangel. And a Trickster. Was he trusting too much? Dean always told him he had terrible judgement.

Warm lips touched his and spoke gently against him. “You can trust me, Sam. I want nothing from this but to make you feel good. No deals. No ulterior motives. I promise.”

Again, Sam believed him.

“Ready for me?”

Sam nodded.

Gabriel entered him, and it was weird and good and very soon became amazing. Fingers had been one thing. But Gabriel was…large, and he thought it should hurt, but it didn’t. He just felt so full and loved, and it was… His mind stuttered to a stop, unable to form words, and he just _felt._

Gabriel moved in and out, slowly, and with each thrust, he caressed a spot in him that sent warmth moving through his entire body.

“Doing okay, Sam?”

He couldn’t speak but managed a nod.

“Good. Gonna stroke your beautiful cock now.”

A hand gripped him and stroked him in time to Gabriel’s slow movements. In and out. Up and down. Sam lost himself in the waves of pleasure that coursed through him, cresting until he almost came but then receding as Gabriel slowed his pace or gripped the base of his cock, stopping the orgasm before it could _quite_ start.

It should have been frustrating. The slow slide back and forth between needing to come and not being allowed to. Gabriel continued to murmur how good he was being. How gorgeous he was laid out on the bed. How tight and hot he was. How good it was to be inside him.

Sam couldn’t be silent through all that, but he nor could he make more than hushed low utterances. Most of the time he wasn’t even sure what he was saying.

Finally, Gabriel said, “You’ve been so good. Want to come now?”

All he could manage was a nod, which he hoped Gabriel could see.

Gabriel squeezed Sam’s cock hard and thrust a little faster. Moments later, Sam felt his orgasm crest, and he spilled all over the angel’s hand. He whispered, “Gabriel. Oh, Gabriel.” He’d wanted to say “Oh, God, Gabriel,” but had just enough presence of mind to think that maybe the archangel wouldn’t appreciate hearing his father’s name at just that moment.

Gabriel chuckled, and Sam wondered if he’d caught the thought. But he was feeling so blissed out and content that he didn’t wonder long. A moment later, Gabriel thrust hard and came too.

Sam lay there, eyes closed, too relaxed and comfortable to do anything. Gabriel snapped his fingers, and the mess between them vanished. That pulled a tiny smile from Sam. Archangel boyfriends could be convenient.

“Boyfriends, Sam,” Gabriel said, and he could hear the humor in his tone. “Is that what we are now?”

“Mmmph,” was about all Sam managed in return.

Gabriel kissed both his eyelids in turn. “Told you I’d make you whisper my name.”

“You did,” Sam managed.

Gabriel kissed him again. Which was weird. Sam wasn’t sure he’d ever been kissed so thoroughly _after_ sex.

“Then they were doing it wrong.”

Sam was getting more used to this mind reading thing. It was oddly convenient.

They lay together for a few minutes, but Gabriel soon grew restless and sat up. Sam opened his eyes and watched him. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” His stomach clenched at the thought.

Gabriel regarded him, golden eyes sad. “I have to. It’s too early in this thing for me to be too public.” He tweaked Sam’s nose. “But expect me when you see me.”

Sam got up one elbow. “Did you just quote Gandalf at me?”

Gabriel’s eyes twinkled. “Quite possibly.” And with that, he was gone.

Sam collapsed back on the bed. That had been…amazing. Nothing like what he’d imagined from Gabriel.

And he certainly hoped they could do it again.


End file.
